


Lonely in a Crowd

by Darkflame1808



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Thunderbirds, thunderbirds are go
Genre: Character Death, Dehydration, Eating Disorder, Gen, Grief, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, I, I apologise, I hurt the baby virge, Isolation, Lots of Hurt, Starvation, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, loss of mother, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-01-21 04:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkflame1808/pseuds/Darkflame1808
Summary: A young Tracy family is forced to deal with the loss of one of their own, and Virgil deals with it alone.Surrounded by family, the second youngest has never felt more lonely.But he's fine. He's strong.
Relationships: Jeff Tracy/Lucille Tracy, Scott Tracy & Jeff Tracy, Virgil Tracy & Scott Tracy
Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684582
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, first of all, TW for anyone that has lost a parent or anyone close to them, and also, eating disorder (kind of). Be careful reading and take care of yourself :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds or any of the characters from the show (or from TAG). I just want to make cool stories :)

They sat out in the waiting room. Scott held a quivering Gordon and John sat with young Alan, stroking the three-year-old’s hair away from his face. Everyone had tears in their eyes, trailing their faces. Alan was sobbing loudly, Gordon was shaking with his sorrow and both Scott and John were calmly trying to sooth them, their own emissary clear on their faces. Dad had left, gone to do something, Virgil wasn’t sure, all he knew was that Dad wasn’t there. 

Grandma sat beside him, arm around his shoulders, her own tears tracking down her cheeks. But Virgil had none. His own eyes were clear, cheeks untainted by tears, breaths even and calm. His heart wasn’t breaking, he wasn’t crumbling or collapsing as his brothers seemed to be. 

The hospital was cold and uncaring, the nurses moved around them as though they weren’t there, though some cast them sympathetic glances. A new nurse entered the room they were outside, and Virgil watched as Scott tightened his grip on Gordon. The seven-year-old was trying to get out of the restraining arms to stop the nurse from going into the room. He had become fiercely protective of the one who resided there, not allowing for new people to come in. 

He was afraid that they would hurt her.

But Virgil knew.

He knew they couldn’t.

She was gone.

And he didn’t feel anything.

His mum has died. She had finally passed after around a month of extreme pain battling an autoimmune disease. She had succumbed to it so quickly, turning into a gaunt, pale, sickly looking skeleton. She was always happy and bright, with a big smile and a gentle laugh, and it all seemed to disappear when the disorder reared its ugly head. 

He had lost his mum about a month ago. Her body finally died.

And yet he felt nothing. 

He was just… numb.


	2. Isolation

The funeral had been nice. There were flowers, and good music. Mum would’ve been happy with it. 

Yet he still felt nothing.

There had been tears as her casket was lowered into the ground, he had silently cried as his mother’s body disappeared forever. But his grandma already had her arms full with John and Gordon, John standing silently and watching with tears gathered in his eyes, and Gordon sobbing against her. Dad had stood next to Scott, his arm around the eldest’s shoulders, his other holding Alan up against his side. 

Virgil stood between them all, with only his own arms around him for comfort. 

It was fine, the others obviously needed the comfort more. Virgil shouldn’t be selfish.

As they travelled home, he silently stared out the window of the car, watching the landscape change as it rolled past his eyes. Alan and Gordon were both sleeping, Alan’s head supported by his booster seat, and Gordon’s head leaning on John’s shoulder. John had his headphones on and was watching some sort of documentary. Scott was also sitting silently, but he had headphones on too, blocking out the world around him, even though his cheeks were still stained with the evidence of his misery from earlier. 

Even Grandma and Dad were sitting silently, although Virgil suspected that Grandma was napping where she was seated. Dad was stoically staring out through the windscreen, hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

But Virgil’s heart had been emptied again. It was like the hospital all over again.

He had felt the pain, the heartbreak, the all consuming sorrow.

And then it was gone.

When they arrived home, Dad got out of the car and rounded it to open the side door to unbuckle a quietly snoring Alan onto his hip. John gently shook Gordon, startling the young boy, but he quietly told him where he was and helped him out of the car. Scott went around to Grandma and carefully roused her from her slumber too. She woke much more gracefully than Gordon. 

The family silently filed into the house, which seemed so much emptier than it had only a few months ago.

Dad went to put Alan to bed, Gordon following after him as he was shepherded by John. 

Only Dad returned from the hallway, John having also gone to bed. 

Scott followed Grandma into the kitchen, and Virgil heard the jug be flicked on, the water gurgling as it was heated. 

Dad breezed past where the young musician was stood frozen in the entryway. The Patriarch of the Tracy family didn’t even spare his second eldest a glance. 

No one had said a word to him since before the funeral, where Grandma had asked if he wanted anything to eat and had given him a hug.

Which also happened to be the only human contact Virgil had had all day. 

A new tar slipped down Virgil’s face, but he wiped it away before anyone saw it.

Not like they noticed him anyway.

No, he shouldn’t think like that. Everyone was grieving, he shouldn;t be so selfish. They needed to take care of themselves first. And the younger boys needed the comfort from the adults. They had just buried their mother. Virgil shouldn’t be so needy.

With a decision made, Virgil moved out of the entryway and to his room that he shared with Scott. The eldest would probably end up on the couch next to their father anyway. He liked to keep an eye on Dad, and he hadn’t told Virgil why yet. But Virgil knew.

He had smelled alcohol on his Dad’s breath in the past week.

And he had watched Grandma empty a few of the bottles down the sink.

He knew.

Upon entering his room, the young artist stripped out of his dress clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Without even bothering to brush his teeth, he crawled into bed and curled up beneath the covers. 

Tomorrow would be better.

It had to be.

-+-+-+-

He got up at sunrise after a nightmare fuelled night. Usually he would seek out Scott. It wasn’t unusual for Virgil to cross their room and crawl under the covers after a nightmare. 

But Scott wasn’t there last night. 

So Virgil ended up waking up early and sitting in front of his window that overlooked the farm for a few hours, watching the sunrise. A new day. Maybe it will be better.

As he entered the kitchen he immediately knew that his optimism had been ignored by fate. A thick grief hung over the family. Gordon was silently staring at the bench, his cereal sitting untouched in front of him. John was in the corner, cup of tea in hand and eyes staring off into empty space, lost in his own mind. Scott was watching Dad like a hawk, not letting the older man doing anything without the eldest’s knowledge. There was the faint scent of whiskey on Dad’s shirt.

Grandma was eating some toast and reading a magazine, though her eyes were flickering up and checking on the people aorund her before she returned to her magazine. Alan was curled up against Grandma’s chest, bright blue eyes wandering over the colourful pages in the magazine.

Virgil quietly made his way oer to the toaster and slipped a couple pieces of toast in. No one said anything to him; he didn’t even think they had noticed his entrance. Usually his dad would give his hair a ruffle, and Grandma would give him a kiss on the cheek. There wasn’t even the usual grunt of acknowledgement from John.

It made the 13 year old feel very much alone. 

Isolated within his own family.

The toast popped and Virgil snagged it before someone else could claim it, as they usually would, but no one made any move to do so. He spread some marmite on the toast, along with margarine, and headed out to the porch where he sat and ate his breakfast.

His stomach was still clawing at him after the toast.

And not in hunger.

His heart was in his throat as he reentered the kitchen a couple hours later.

It was empty.

Everyone had disappeared to go about their days. He knew he would e able to find Grandma in the garden, and John was probably on the roof. Dad had to run into the city today, and as Virgil remembered, he heard the car drive off. Scott as probably with him. Alan and Gordon he could hear in the living room, some sort of T.V. program on. 

Grandma would go and check on them and John in about 15 minutes, make sure they were okay, and eventually end up cuddling the both of them. It’s what had been happening for weeks now, ever since Mum got hospitalized. 

And she had been giving him these cuddles too.

So what happened?

Why did Virgil not deserve the love and comfort anymore?

No. He shouldn’t think like that. That was selfish. His younger brothers needed their grandma more than him. They were younger. They probably missed Mum more. He oculd deal with the echoing loneliness. He just needed to stop being so selfish. 

Without speaking a word to anyone, he made his way upstairs and back to his room. Once there he curled up back under his blankets, clutched his mum’s favourite jersey to him and cried. He cried for hours, raw sobs tearing their way out of his throat, his tears sokaing into the cloth clutched in his white knuckled hands. One of the last things he had of his mum. 

Eventually, Virgil feel asleep, still holding onto Lucy’s jersey, cheeks red and splotchy from the crying, and eyelashes sticking together. He slept all the way through dinner and into the early morning, which is when he finally woke form his exhausted sleep.

On soft feet, he exited his rrom and climbed up into the attic using the ladder always left down for John so he could stargaze. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Virgil, his next youngest brother wasn’t sitting on the roof tonight. That meant that Virgil could quietly sit and watch the world wake up. As soon as he heard each of his family memebers enter the kitchen, he made his way down from the roof and slipped back into his room.

He fell asleep again soon after.

-+-+-+-

“Have you seen Virgil recently? I need to talk to him about something,” Scott asked John a few days later. 

“Nope, I feel ike I haven’t seen him in ages. He’ll be around here somewhere,” the red head responded, but there was a crease forming between his brows.

When was the last time he had seen Virgil?

The last he could think of was the funeral, but surely that wasn’t right? That was around a week and a half ago, almost two weeks. 

He had seen his older brither since then. Right?

Oh God. 

Scott had already left, moving outside to look around the trees. Virigil loved to perch in them to get a better angle on something he was drawing, or just to observe. No one else seemed to notice just how much Virgil took in. All the little details as he quietly watched on. 

The second eldest wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

“Hey Gordy!”

The seven-year-old looked up from where he had been playing with his aquarium lego set on the front porch, carnelian brown eyes shining in the sunlight. “Have you seen Virge anywhere? I can’t find him.”

“I haven’t seen him in ages. Maybe he’s in your room?” the young blond answered with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I didn’t even think to look there. Thanks Gordon,” Scott replied, carefully stepping aorund the lego creations and bricks scattering the wooden deck. 

He quietly made his way down the hall and knocked softly on their shared room. The door was closed. The door was never closed.

Scott truly felt bad. He had realised he had been ignoring his next youngest brother over the past week and a half, in favour of supervising Dad and watching after the other kids. All of them were reeling after their mother;s death, and the little ones had been screaming themselves awake at night with nightmares, and in those moments of sheer panic had called out for their mum.

Who wasn’t there to give them kisses and hugs anymore.

Dad hadn’t even heard these pleas for help from the couch, so Scott had gotten up to sooth the boys, tell them it owuld be okay, and even rock back to sleep in Alan’s case.

He hadn’t done it for Virgil at all though. 

And he tended to get osme of the worst nightmares of all of them.

Shit, he had been neglecting his brother. He hadn’t even said hello to him in a week and a half. Hadn’t seen him since the funeral. 

When no one responded to his knock on the door, he did it again, hoping to garner some sort of response. Virgil was probably mad, being ignored by his biig brother for almost two weeks, and Scott couldn’t blame him. 

He would be pissed too.

“Virge, please open up, I haven’t seen you in days.”

Nothing.

“Please, V, I get you’re probably mad, and you have every right, but let me in, just yell out, let me know you;re okay.”

After once again getting no response, Scott decided to open the door, damn the consequences.

What he found caused him to pause.

The curtains were drawn, even though it was late spring and the mugginess of summer was starting to make itself known. The sunlight that did manage to filter through the curtains gave the room an eerie look. Dark, but in the middle of the day.

There was a lump on the bed, back turned to the door, and moving with each breath. Scott slowly approached the mass and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his feet.

“I’m really sorry, Virge. I haven’t been fair to you. I haven’t been here for you through something that has been hard for all of us. I’m so so sorry.

Still, Virgil gave no response.

Usually he would’ve said something by now. Either anger, or disappointment, or acceptance, but something would be made clear.

Virgil never gave the silent treatment. 

“Virge? You okay?”

Still nothing.

Scot reached out a hand and gently shook the boy’s shoulder. “C’mon Virgil, please, just talk to me.”

He managed to roll Virgil over and onto his back, which is right when his stomach dropped.

Virgil was pale and gaunt, deep hollows under his closed eyes, and his black lashes splayed over his cheeks accentuating this. His skin was waxy and had a greyish hue to it. His usually shiny hair was greasy and limp over his face. Scott tried shaking him again, trying to get any sort of reaction from the younger. “Virgil? Virgil!”

Someone came running into the room as Scott continued yelling and shaking the uncoscious boy, desperately hoping for a response he wasn’t going to get. His arms were grabbed by someone behind him, and someone older than him sat where he was, trying to rouse Virgil themselves.

It soon registered that Dad was holding him, his strong arms a source of comfort for the panicking 15 year old. Grandma was sitting on the bed, feeling Virgil’s forehead and rubbing circles with her thumb into Virgil’s hand. SHe turned back around to Dad, tears in her eyes and her voice hoarse.

“He needs a hospital.”


	3. Trembling

They didn’t bother calling an ambulance as it was quicker for them to drive Virgil to a hospital than wait for an ambulance to reach them where they were at the ranch. So, Jeff carried Virgil to their van and got Scott to sit in one of the seats so they could lie Virgil down across the seats. Grandma held Gordon against her leg on the porch and watched as the van drove away with the two eldest boys of the Tracy family. John had stood beside her, with Alan holding his hand. The three youngest weren’t sure what had happened, but by the way Grandma was slightly trembling they knew it was bad. 

The van sped off towards the hospital, as quickly as it could go, but also as carefully as Jeff could manage. Scott held onto Virgil’s head in the back, keeping his little brother’s head steady as the car’s vibrations caused the limp body to jump around. Virgil was pale and kooed almost dead, dark circles under his eyes and his breathing shallow. Anyone would think the thirteen-year-old was dead. 

It took half an hour to reach the nearest hospital, the very same hospital that Lucille had lived in for the past month, and the one she had died in.

The van skidded into a parking spot and Jeff hurriedly got out of his seat and opened the side door into the back. Carefully, and as gently as he could, he reached in and picked Virgil up off of the seat, and cradled the boy to his chest. Scott jumped out of the car and followed, having to run to keep pace with his father.

The ER was chaotic, people rushing around in the hallways, nurses flitting from room to room. The reception had a line as long as the perimeter fence on the ranch, which was pretty long. And Jeff’s patience was already waning. 

“Someone, please help! My son’s unconscious!” he yelled into the chaos, and thankfully one person heard. 

A nurse rushed over, her hair slightly frazzled and a manic look in her eyes. “Let’s get him to a bed. Do you know what happened?” she asked as she lead them away from the noise of waiting area and deeper into the bowels of the hospital.

“We don’t know. We just found him in bed in the dark like this. My eldest son tried waking him up with shaking him and yelling, and he didn’t stir on the car ride over.”

“Place him here.” She gestured to a bed, and Jeff set Virgil down, making sure all limbs were on the bed for the nurse. She pulled up Virgil’s medical history on the tablet connected to the bed then started an IV line on him. She got him hooked up to all the monitors and to an oxygen mask. She pressed a button above his bed, and a few minutes later, in walked a doctor, white coat swirling around her feet like a cape, glasses reflecting the harsh lights back into Scott’s eyes.

“What have we got?” she immediately asked the nurse, all but ignoring the two other Tracy’s in the room. 

“Fever, possible malnourishment, dehydration, low oxygen saturation,” the nurse rattled off as she continued to flutter around Virgil’s bed. “He’s underweight.”

“He’s what?!” Jeff exclaimed from the corner he had been corralled into.

The doctor and nurse ignored him. “Set him up with a nutrient drip. Keep him on oxygen and try to lower his temperature with some damp cloths, and lower the temperature in here. We’ll go from there. Let’s try get on top of some of these symptoms first.”

“Yes Doctor.”

As the nurse scurried around, the doctor turned towards the two other Tracy’s in the room. “Sorry about the rudeness, but I want to try and get on top of this as fast as possible.”

“Not a problem,” Jeff responded and held out a hand to the doctor. “Jeff Tracy. Your patient is my son Virgil.”

“I’m Doctor Amelia Clarke.” She looked over towards Scott. “I’ll be looking after your brother. I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Scott, Virgil’s older brother,” he responded, his eyes skipping back over Dr. Clarke and settling on Virgil.

“Well, from the looks of things, he hasn’t been eating properly, or drinking any sort of fluid in the last few days, at least. He’s severely dehydrated, which means he;s got a really high heart rate and when he wakes he maybe be severely disoriented and potentially will have orthostatic hypotension when he stands. It also explains the fever. He is also well on his way to malnourished. If I were to give a guess, I would say he hasn’t eaten in over a week, and maybe had a drink three or four days ago, at least. Maybe longer.”

“I don;t know what happened. I realised today that I hadn’t seen him in a while, and so went to check on him and found him unconscious in bed. It looked like he had fallen asleep.”

“Okay, we’ll monitor him for symptoms and try to wake him to get more fluids and nutrients into him.”

Monitors started to blare and beep like crazy, and Virgil, who had been still and silent since the moment Scott found him, started to shake and spasm, trembles wracking his fragile looking frame

“He’s seizing!” The nurse called out, quickly moving the bed rails up and starting a timer. Dr. Clarke hurried over to help, and Jeff quickly restrained Scott.

Virgil continued to writhe and shake on the bed, his eyes remaining shut, but his body jerking as he rode out the seizure. He finally settled after two and a half minutes of seizing, collapsing back onto the mattress. The doctor immediately swooped in and took him vitals. Her shoulders tensed up when she checked his breathing. She stood stock still for a moment before the alarms started to blare again.

“He’s not breathing!”

  
  



	4. Stay With Me

Doctors and nurses surrounded Virgil, working together to try to get the boy breathing again. Jeff held a shaking Scott in the corner, holding his eldest son close.

The scene was very reminiscent for the both of them of Lucille’s death. Alarms blaring, people swarming and rushing like bees in a hive. And a deathly still figure in the middle of it. And now his wife has been replaced by his son. His smart, creative, artistic, sweet hearted son.

The two of them were pushed from the room as more medical staff rushed in, each bringing more and more equipment needed to make sure Jeff’s boy survived. They couldn’t lose another. Not yet. Not now. Not ever. 

And all of this, all because Jeff couldn’t keep it together. He had failed his young son. He had failed as a father. His son had become so withdrawn from the family that he had dehydrated himself to the point of coma, and hadn’t eaten for almost two weeks. He hadn’t been seen by anyone in the family for the same amount of time. 

God, what had he allowed to happen?

He had abandoned is boy. Left him reeling in the aftermath of his mother’s death. He had felt so unsupported by everyone that he had let himself waste away in his room, letting himself get to the edge of almost following his mother. What type of father did that? WHat type of father let that happen to one of their children?

Scott had similar thoughts racing through his own mind. He had been so preoccupied with Dad and with the younger kids that he had forgotten about irgil. He hadn’t been there for his immediate younger brother, hadn’t let him know he was there, and that it was alright for him to need help and support as much as the rest of them. He let this happen too. 

Jeff lead Scott over to some of the chairs in the waiting room, sitting the brunet down and tilting his head so that they were face to face. “Scott, I want you to listen to me.” After receiving a weak nod from him, Jeff carried on. “This is not your fault. What has happened to Virgil is not on you, it is on me. I made it so that you felt you had to look after me instead of looking out for yourself. Virgil is my son, and it is my responsibility to make sure he’s handling everything as best as he can, and I have failed him in that. But whatever you think, this is not your fault. You kids just lost your mother, you’re all grieving, and I should’ve seen that and been there for all of you.”

“And you lost your wife,” the young man responded. “You’re allowed to grieve too, Dad. It’s my job to look out for my little brothers, and I haven’t done that for Virgil.”

“Because you were looking after me instead. I shouldn’t have let that fall on you. I should’ve found my own support that wouldn’t hurt you boys.”

Scott started to shake his head again, but Jeff stopped him before he could, pulling his eldest into his chest. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, Scott. I’m sorry for making you feel like this is your fault.”

He could still hear the chaos in the room, and with each second it continued, his heart sank lower and he felt more and more like vomiting. His son was dying and he couldn’t do anything, and he hadn’t done anything for two weeks. His son had been dying since his mother passed, and he had helped alienate the boy from his family.

“Please Virgil,” he whispered, low enough so Scott wouldn’t hear. His eyes closed as he said it, as he prayed. “Stay with us. Stay with me.”

His prayers seemed to go unanswered as the long drawn out beep of the cardiac monitor continued. Shouting orders and medical jargon travelled out of the room to reach the two Tracy’s ears, each understanding bits and pieces of what was happening, and knowing that it wasn’t looking good.

Lucille’s body had turned on itself, ripping his wife away from him. Now Virgil was following her, his own body shutting down, but not because it had turned on itself. No. Because he had been neglected. He had been left in the devastation that was the wake of his mother’s death, and he hadn’t been able to handle the grief by himself. No child would. And now he may join her. In this year alone, Jeff may not only lose his beautiful, sweet, light of his life, but also his artistic, creative, kind hearted son.

All because he had forgotten his boy in his time of need.

What would Lucy think of him now?

  
  



	5. Tear-Stained

She reached out to hold his hand, the small fingers limp between her palms. She rested her forehead against the hand in her’s, closing her eyes for a moment.

The door opened behind her and she moved her head up again, gently kissing the hand before looking over to the intruder. 

Jeff stood in the door, two cups of coffee held in his hands, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

She was probably a sight. Red eyes, tear stained cheeks, her hands trembling slightly, though she tried to hide it. Her clothes were wrinkled from sitting in the chair, and from having other small hands clutching at her. 

First she lost her daughter in law, now she might lose a grandson.

They had managed to restart Virgil’s breathing, barely. He was incubated now, a tube down his throat and seemingly taking up half his face. His face was sheet white, eyes hooded and eyelashes dark brushstrokes against white canvas. His cheekbones stood out a bit too much for Sally’s liking, his lips cracked and dry. He was not out of the woods yet. 

How had they let this happen?

For the past two weeks Alan and Gordon had taken up most of her time. The two youngest boys were struggling with the loss of their mother. As were all the boys. But the two youngest haven’t been able to comprehend not being able to see their mum at all. John was a bit aloof, but still Sally had made sure to seek him out, knowing his tendencies to isolate himself when thinking.

But how had she forgotten about Virgil?

The young artist was known for burying feelings, for putting on a brave face for his brothers and yet feeling everything so much. Many a time over the past few months, Sally had found Virgil moving himself out of the way, removing himself from the family to cry where no one would see him.

How could she let him slip out from under her radar?

How could she let this happen to her little boy?

“It’s not your fault, Mum,” Jeff said, almost collapsing into the chair next to her. “This is on me.”

She listened to the beeping of the heart monitor before meeting the sparkling blue eyes of her son. So like Scott; you wouldn't be able to miss the family resemblance. “Do not blame yourself for this. It’s on both of us.”

Jeff sighed but nodded, his gaze once again settling on the comatose boy in front of them. “I just can’t believe I-we didn’t pick up on the signs. I look back and it’s obvious. He didn’t ask for a hug, or even a hand to hold at the funeral. He came into the kitchen the day after, and no one said anything to him. I hadn’t seen him since then before Scotty found him. He was… sparing us, I guess? I don’t know. Why didn’t he come to us for help? Why?”

“He probably didn’t feel as though he was important enough,” Sally responded, stroking her thumb across the back of the hand still clutched in hers. “He seems to think that all his brothers are more important, deserve our attention more. At least in the past month or so, since Lucille got sick. He’s been withdrawing, and he even told me one day. Said ‘you need to look after the other boys, Grandma. They need support and love. Their mum is dying. I’ll be fine.’ What 13-year-old says that? And that’s probably what he was thinking at the funeral, and afterwards. He was removing himself so that he wasn’t distracting us from the other boys.”

“God,” Jeff exhaled, shaking his head into his hands. 

“Where are the boys?”

“Scott took them down to the cafeteria. Alan’s asleep just outside the door. Said he would wait there for me. They’re all so scared, mum. Their brother is in a coma in a hospital, which is the place where their mother died. They’re terrified.”

“He’ll wake up,” Sally assures, teaching out for her son. Her hand made contact with his cheek and he leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.

Her little boy was grown up, and growing old. His face was lined with creases, crows feet beginning to bloom at his eyes, and worry lines engraving into his forehead. And yet his eyes were still so young. Full of adventure and hope but glazed with grief. Grief and guilt. It seemed to weigh on his shoulders like a boulder, dragging him under to where his family couldn’t reach. To a darker place than anyone knew of.

“I’m scared, Mum.” His voice was soft and broken, tears clogging it to make it thick and hoarse. “I’m so scared for him, for them. Everyone hurting and I can’t do anything. Lucy’s gone. And now Virgil…”

“Shhh, don’t think like that. Virgil will be fine. He’ll pull through.”

“But what if he doesn’t? The boys can’t lose their brother just after losing their mother. And I-I can’t lose my son. I can’t lose him, Mum, I can’t.”

Jeff was crying, his tears running down his face and dripping onto the floor. His bright eyes were clouded by the extra liquid, showing the roiling pain that seemed to gnaw on him just under the surface.

“He’ll pull through. Virgil’s strong. He won’t leave us yet.”

And with all her heart, Sally prayed that she was right.

  
  
  



	6. Abandoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters, couldn't get much more out than what I did with the prompts, but I got something. Hopefully will get longer with the next chapters :)

A pain rolled through him, snatching at his mind and blossoming through his entire being. It taunted him, the promise of misery and anguish held within it. And it wasn’t just a physical pain. It wasn’t just the stinging of cracked lips held open, or of a stomach turning itself inside out, or a heart beating sporadically before falling silent.  _ Mum _ .

It was the absolute darkness that echoed through him and destroyed all joy within his young heart. It was the trembling, the anxiety, the depression. It was the echoing despair that didn’t seem to dissipate. It was the piece of him, a chunk that was torn out by sharp claws, leaving him bleeding across the floor, struggling to sit up against the weakness that welled up, overthrowing his entire system.

And no one helped him.

He was left on the floor to bleed out, his own tears mingling with the red, diluting the precious liquid. He wasn’t given a hand, no one was there to give him a kiss. Press a bandage against him and hold him until more help came. There was no one and nothing. 

So he was left to bleed, to watch as his very essence leaked out of him, until he was left as nothing but a husk; an empty shell of the boy he was before. His mother left, whisked away by death to dance in an eternal field with her own family. With Granny and Pops. And Grandpa. She was taken away from them, from her new family, from her family that she had made. 

And when she had left, those claws had buried themselves into his side, eyes had flashed, and he had fallen. It was so far down.

Now here he was, dragging himself forward, but his arms were failing and his blood was trailing. 

His family had done nothing. He had been left to bleed, left to struggle against the beast with claws. And he had failed. He had failed the test, he had failed them. His little brothers couldn't do it themselves, and his older brother needed to help Dad fight his own. Virgil had disappointed them all, letting the beast sink its claws into him and tear out that piece. 

He deserved this.

They had abandoned him because he hadn’t been able to fend for himself. All he had to do was evade, to shunt the beast aside, build a mental wall. And he had failed.

Why couldn’t he be better?

Now look where it got him. 

Alone, and cold. The pain spiked again and he muffled a cry, biting down on his own arm. His eyes screwed shut as he fought against the pain, the darkness summoning him, calling out like a siren at sea. 

He couldn’t give in. He had already failed everyone, disappointed them all, he couldn’t fail them again. He couldn’t give in.

But the pain kept swelling, and he was further dragged back. The pain ebbed and flowed like a tide through his body. 

Please, let him hold on. Just a bit longer. Someone would come, right?

They wouldn’t leave him here. Even if he had disappointed them. Even if he was a failure. 

They wouldn’t.

Right?


	7. Delirium

“He’s waking up.”

“C’mon, Virge, you can do it.”

“We’re here, V, wake up.”

“Wakey wakey!”

“Viiiirgil!”

Virgil’s eyes opened.. The ceiling was twirling and swirling, spinning around like he was on one of those old record players or CD’s. He screwed up his eyes and tried to look again, but it just kept spinning. 

A blur of colour moved into his vision; brown and grey mixing into a sea of colour, framing something pinkish white with two blue things on it. When did Scott get so old?

“Hey Virgil, you okay, buddy?”

The deep voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it in his dozy state. He moved his head, trying to get himself up. He wanted to sit up.

Something was holding him down. Something was wound around his arms, sitting on top of his chest, constricting, strangling. What was it? What the hell was it?

It was hurting him, it was stopping him, it was restricting him. He started to fight against the snakes that moved up his arms, their heads moving up near his ears. They hiss and bite at his ears and he shakes, tried to shake them off. Get them away!

Something else clamps down over his chest, pushing him down to the ground, holding him so that he can’t breathe.

He can't breathe!

He tries to scratch and claw at the thing holding him down, but his arms are wrenched away, held down to something cold and biting. The teeth latch around his wrists and he struggles against it.

“Virgil, it’s okay, stay calm.”

That same voice. Why is it telling him to be calm? He’s going to die. He can’t breathe, he can’t move. They’re torturing him! 

“No! Let me go!” He yells, but he can barely hear his own voice. It scrapes against his throat, bringing forth tears that spill over and run tracks down his cheeks. “Let me go!”

-+-+-+-

They don’t know what happened. One minute Virgil was waking up from his week long coma, slowly blinking like a kitten opening its eyes for the first time. Next minute his arm is caught on one of the many lines surrounding him and he starts to freak out. He thrashes and kicks, but his arms and legs are weak. He can’t do much damage. 

Jeff tries to calm him, placing both hands on his chest and pushing him into the bed, hoping the secure hold will calm him, let him know he’s safe. It does the opposite.

The young boy starts hyperventilating. Jeff hears his mother shepherd the younger boys out of the room. John and Scott stubbornly stay.

Machines start going haywire as Virgil fully succumbs to his panic attack. Doctors and nurses rushed into the room, Jeff getting pushed away from his panicking son. He grabs John and Scott, holding them close, particularly John as the young boy watches on with wide eyes as his older brother fights against demons and dangers that aren’t there. And Scott has to watch as his younger brother thrashes against something that is haunting him, something that he thinks is killing him. 

And once again, his family isn’t helping. 

They aren’t helping him.

Scott decides it’s time for that to change.

  
  



	8. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, after this chapter are the Fluffember chapters (prompts from @gumnut). So, this is the last of the whumptober (but not the last of the whumping >:))

It was hours later. Scott had stubbornly stayed awake through Virgil’s sedation and until Grandma took all the younger boys- including John- back to the hotel. She allowed Scott to stay, but gave Dad a glare, ensuring that her eldest grandson would be properly looked after. 

Dad had collapsed into the chair next to the bed, his face falling into his hands and a sigh escaping his lips. He was looking older by the day. The bags around his eyes were getting deeper and darker, and his mouth was looking more like a frown everyday. 

“Dad,” Scott spoke up quietly. Blue eyes flickered up to meet his own and he took a deep breath, soldiering on. “Maybe you should get some rest? If he wakes up again, it’ll scare him with how tired you’re looking. You know how he is, he’ll blame himself.”

He nodded tiredly, rubbing his hands over his face again. “What do you think I should do, Scott? He locked himself away, he didn’t let us help, and we-I neglected him. I didn’t take care of him and he didn’t feel like he could come to me for comfort. How am I meant to fix that?”

“Show him you’re there. We all need to show him that we’re here, as a family,” the young man replied, his eyes roving over the bed-bound brother. 

Jeff nodded, and before long, he nodded off to sleep, head angled awkwardly due to him sitting in his chair. Scott watched as his dad slowly succumbed to somnolence. Finally, he could kick this plan of his into action.

Carefully, he untangle Virgil as well as he could form the wires. The doctors had said that the sedative would only last a couple hours, and that once it had worn off, Virgil would be sleeping naturally.

Meaning he could be woken up.

Scott sat on the bed beside Virgil’s knee. His little brother was breathing evenly, a tube up his nose to feed him and an oxygen cannula sitting below his nostrils. “Virge,” he whispered. He reached out and shook the skinny shoulders. Virgil had always been small; he was a skinny little runt when he was younger, and he still was. So it wasn’t unusual. But the lack of food that he had had over those two weeks hadn’t helped, and his bones had seemed more prominent for just a little bit, until he was hooked up to the nasogastric tube and fed up until he was probably ready to burst. 

“V, wake up.”


	9. Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS HAHAHAHAHA so here it is a few months late omg I'm so sorry I forgot this

Virgil’s eyes scrunched together, and the little brother groaned before they flickered open. Chocolate brown met sky blue, and wonder filled those young eyes. “S-Scott?”

“Hey Virge,” he whispered, reaching out to stroke the dark hair that haloed his brother. He was awake. His little brother, after too long, was awake. After suffering a seizure and coma induced from dehydration, he was awake. After starving himself for a week and believing his family had abandoned him, he was awake. “How you feeling?”

“Hurts,” he whispered back, eyes clenching shut again, back arching upwards. 

“What hurts? What can I help with?”

“Hurts,” he repeats, shaking his head, voice rough from disuse. 

“What is it, Virgil?”

He shakes his head again, clamping his mouth shut and keeping his eyes closed. Worry floods Scott’s gut and he holds Virgil’s arm while his other hand continues to comb Virgil’s hair, if slightly faster. “You want some water?”

Virgil shakes his head again, and Scott starts to get flustered. What does he do? His little brother is in pain and won’t tell him how he can help. What the hell is he meant to do?

-+-+-+-

He couldn’t tell him. Fire shot through his throat and bloomed across his chest. His stomach turned and sloshed inside of him, grumbling for food and trying to force up whatever was already in there. His throat was dry and raw as if sandpaper had been viciously rubbed inside it and it hurt to simply squeeze the words out at Scott.

But he couldn’t tell him. Scott needed to focus on Dad. Virgil couldn’t remember much over the past three weeks or so, but he did remember the echoing loneliness. The thoughts constantly swirling in his head, telling him to stay quiet, that the others need the attention more. That he needs to man up and stop being a baby. His little brothers need the hugs and comfort, not him. And Scott needed to focus on Dad. The love of his life had died, the mother to his children. Of course he needed the support from Virgil’s only big brother. Virgil needed to not be selfish. 

He remembered those thoughts. 

And so now, he shut down. He didn’t tell Scott about the burning pain running from his heart and through his chest. Even though he couldn;t stop his body from reacting to the pain firing along is nerves, he could clamp his mouth shut and hold it in. Let his stomach sink as he bottled up the need for comfort. 

He really just wanted to let his big brother wrap him up in his arms. But he couldn’t. He can’t ask for that. Scott shouldn’t have to deal with him being a needy brother. He has Dad to look out for. Their father was a widow, and he couldn’t take the comfort that Scott was offering away from the suffering man. 

He was the second eldest. He had to be strong for his little brothers. He had to be strong so his big brother didn’t feel the need to look after him. He needed to be strong so that Scott could be there for Dad. He couldn’t distract Scott from that, or the rest of the family. Grandma was needed for the younger boys, and herself. She did just lose her daughter in law. She needed to look after herself too. 

Virgil needed to let them heal. He just had to suck it up and keep himself away. Let them help each other, remove him from the equation, and there’s one less boy to worry about. Means Grandma and Scott and Dad don’t need to stress over him. Didn’t work out so well. 

Because he had ended up in hospital.

He had probably worried them more. He had added to the stress. He did the one thing he didn’t want to do. Now they weren’t worrying about themselves. He was fine. Sure, he had skipped a few meals, and not had enough water. But he could fix that. He would remember when they got home. He’ll be stronger than before. He had to be.

But for now, the pain flared again and he whimpered, tears leaking out the side of his eyes. 

-+-+-+-

Scott could see the walls building up in his mind. He could see the barricade being erected between them, and he needed to stop it. Those walls and the unwillingness to be helped is what landed him here in the first place. The thought that he had to do it alone. 

And Scott was determined to prove him wrong. 

Before he could even think, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Virgil. The younger boy was whimpering in pain, his entire being just begging for comfort, for some peace, for some help, but his mind was refusing it.

His older brother would not. 

He gently wrapped his arms around his brother’s skinny body. Virgil was shaking where he was, but he could feel all the tense muscles relax and melt into puddles within his arms. The shaking increased, and Virgil began to sob in Scott’s arms. His little brother fell apart, sobs tearing from his desert dry throat, his entire body quaking with the pain that was erupting from him. 

“It’s okay, shh, we’re here now. We’re sorry, we’re here now, I’m here now,” Scott soothed, his hand still trying to calm him by stroking his hair. 

“S-S-S-cott,” he murmured into Scott’s shoulder, his thin arms snaking around his older brother, weakly holding him. “I’m s-sorry I w-wasn’-t-t str-str-strong enough-gh.”

“Shh, no, you were very strong. You were so strong Virgil. Mum would be proud, we’re proud, but we’re here to help you. We’re going to help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He reached around behind the headboard and pressed the call button for the nurse. Hopefully they could give him some painkillers or something. Please let them help his little brother.

“You’re okay, Virgil, I’ve got you now.”

And as the nurse entered the room and started pumping painkillers into his brother, he felt Virgil slowly fade away, succumbing to darkness once again. He eventually fell limp in Scott’s arms, eyes closed and tears drying, his arms slipping from Scott’s sides. 

He needed to rest and recover.

And Scott knew he would be there every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ACTUALLY CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER. HAHAHAHHAA IT'S ONLY NOW THAT I'M GOING THROUGH MY DRIVE THAT I SAW IT I'M SO SORRY


	10. Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! It's been over a month! I'm so so sorry that it's taken so long and that this is so short! But, exams are almost over, so I can soon go back to writing a lot more and hopefully finishing this and then completing the other fics sitting in my drive. Anyway, I know this is short, but here's the next part :)

The next time Virgil woke, he felt foggy. His mind was stuck in cobwebs, the strong substance holding him down and away from full cognitive ability. He tried to shake away the muck, but shaking his head didn’t work, and only served to make him feel even more dizzy and lightheaded. 

Finally, after a small struggle with himself, he managed to open his eyes and look around the room. Gordon was leaning against John’s shoulder, the blond obviously exhausted as he snored and drooled all over the equally as unconscious John. He was going to be happy to find his shoulder so wet when he woke up. 

Scott was asleep in a chair next to Virgil’s bed. His only older brother looked thoroughly burnt out. He looked almost like a panda with the dark circles around his eyes, turning his 15 year old brother into an adult almost. Except for the acne. 

Virgil’s head lolled around more to finally meet a startling pair of young blue eyes set in a tired looking face. “Hello, Virgil,” she whispered, a sparkle in her eyes that had been lost when Mum fell sick. 

“Hi, Grandma,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and throat dry. She shifted Alan on her hip and reached over to a styrofoam cup with a straw in it and held it up so Virgil could sip at it. He reached up to try and take it from her steady hands, but she pulled it away before he could.

“Only a little bit for now. Don’t want to make you sick on it,” she told him, smiling down at the bedridden boy. 

Alan’s eyes opened, the sky blue of his irises lighting something up inside of Virgil, and he felt just a little bit calmer. A little bit better.

Or maybe it was the painkillers he was currently floating on. 

“Vir-gil?” Alan asked sleepily, rubbing at his tired eyes. “G’mornin.”

“Morning Allie,” the second eldest replied, waving back at his little brother. 

“You all betta? No more ouch?” he asked seriously.

“No more ouch.”

“Good. You can’t fall asleep like Mummy.”

A pang of pain hit Virgil right in the chest, and he gasped in a small breath at the youngest’s comment. He had caused his family so much extra pain. They were already hurting, they had already lost so much, why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why did he have to go and do this to them? They shouldn’t be worrying over him, they should be looking after themselves. 

God, why was he like this. 

“Stop that, Virgil,” Grandma said, her voice stern, and when Virgil’s eyes flickered up to meet her, found her eyebrows knitted together with concern.

Shit, now he was worrying Grandma.

“You need to stop thinking as though you need to be strong for everyone,” she reprimanded, while simultaneously allowing him another few sips from the cup. She set it aside and sat on the edge of the bed, releasing the toddler in her arms so he could clamber over to Virgil. “This isn’t resting on your shoulders. You’ve lost your mother, as have the other boys, and it is hurting all of us, but you shouldn’t hide away. Now is the time to be with family. Now is the time to let yourself grow closer and to battle through the grief together.

“I know that you’re hurting really bad right now, we all are.” She took his hand in her own and kissed the knuckles. “But there’s no point hiding yourself away. Your mum wouldn’t want this, we don’t want this for you. We want you safe, and happy, and we won’t be able to accomplish that unless you let us. We’re all hurting, Honey. But we can heal together.”

Virgil moved his other hand to swipe the tears from his eyes before the older woman in front of him could see, but she noticed. She always does. 

Instead of ignoring it, she leaned forward and pulled the skinny boy into a bone crushing hug. “We love you, Virgil, I love you. And it kills me to see you this way.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he whimpered. The tears poured forward and spilled over his cheeks, running down his face to soak into her favourite top. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

He hiccuped and Grandma started to quieten him, stroking the short curls at the back of his head. WHat really broke him though, was Alan.

The small blonde weaseled his way between the two and curled up in the older boy’s lap. He snuffled slightly before settling down and taking Virgil’s arm off of Grandma. “You look like Mumma, Vir-gil. You have the worms in your awms.”

Virgil nodded slightly, another pang echoing in his chest at the comparison. God, what had he done? He wrapped the loose arm around the toddler, cuddling him close. “Yeah, I know,” he whispered. “But I’m getting better, Allie. I jut got a bit sick is all.”

“That’s what Mummy said, and then she fell asleep.”

Virgil closed his eyes, the tears fighting their way out as he tightened his hold on the small boy. “I’m sorry, Allie, I’m so so sorry. I promise, I’ll never, ever do it again,” he whimpered. “I promise.” He hiccupped again, the sobs flowing through his body, causing tremors to break out. But he opened his eyes and looked up to meet wise, eyes. Eyes that were old in the way that they had seen so much, but still held the youth of hope and the need for adventure. 

“I promise.”

  
  



	11. Together

Once the rest of the family had woken and said hi to Virgil, he had drifted off to sleep once again. This pattern continued for a few days, but he managed to put on some weight as he was fed through the nasogastric tube. Eventually, he was released to go home. 

Dad packed up the few belongings he had brought along and managed to get Virgil into some real clothes instead of the hospital scrubs he had been living in for weeks. He had started on a solid diet a few days ago, and after one vomit his stomach settled and he began eating again. His family and nurses had been watching him like hawks; making sure he was eating at the scheduled times, making sure he was drinking more than enough water, and generally just caring for him. 

But no one stuck to his side more than Scott.

The older boy had taken on every responsibility he could; he was intent on making sure that Virgil had everything and anything he may possibly need. It was quite helpful when in hospital and everything was that slight bit out of reach, but at home…

It became downright annoying. 

Once they had all returned home, Virgil had melted onto the couch in the living room, free from a bed for more than an hour or two for the first time in weeks. He threw an arm over his eyes and just breathed in the smells of home. It was so much nicer- even if the house was a bit musty- than the sterile hospital smell that you just never got used to. 

Gordon bounded in after him and landed on top of Virgil, forcing all the air out of the boy’s lungs. “Gordon! Leave your brother alone!” Grandma called as she entered the house, carrying a squirming Alan. She set the youngest down as soon as she was in the door, allowing the blond to crawl over. 

Gordon rolled off of Virgil and landed on the ground next to Alan, then, expertly reached under the couch and pulled out the box of building blocks they kept there. They instantly started crafting whatever imaginary land they had in their heads, easily attracting each other’s attention.

Grandma easily weaved through the chaos the young boys had already made and sat down next to Virgil on the couch, and gently placed a hand on his forehead. “Grandma…” he groaned, rolling his eyes beneath their lids.

“When was the last time you had something to drink young man?” she asked firmly, yet her voice stayed gentle and caring, soft in a way only a grandma can be. 

“Like, half an hour ago,” he mumbled, wincing in preparation for a reprimand.

“Virgil, you know better than that,” she scolded, albeit gentle. “Your body is still trying to recover, you need to be drinking as much water as you can.” 

He made to get up to go get a glass, but a bottle was held out to him. The chocolate brown eyes travelled up the attached arm and found crystal blue at the end. “Thought you might need this,” Scott offered, clearly having heard what Grandma had said. 

“Thanks,” Virgil grumbled before popping the cap open and taking a sip before he closed his eyes again. He was really tired, okay? He needed a break from people for a bit; recharge his batteries. 

“Don’t mention it,” the eldest replied. “Make sure you have something to eat within the next fifteen minutes or I will hunt you down and give you one of the health shakes the hospital recommended.”

Virgil almost gagged at the thought of it. That green sludge had to be one of the worst things he had tasted, including Grandma’s cooking! 

“Alright, Scotty, I’ll get something to eat.” He pushed himself upright, and tried to ignore the two pairs of hands that instantly shot out to steady him. “I’m  _ fine _ .”

He walked into the kitchen and took a muesli bar from the cupboard and a banana from the fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen bench before making his way to his room. He could feel Scott’s eyes and Grandma’s following him up the stairs. Yes, Virgil knows he snapped at them, and it was probably uncalled for, but he was sick of the hovering. He got it; he fucked up. He worried everyone unnecessarily, he won’t do it again. He knows they resent him for it already.. He knows that everyone is angry with him for having to be in hospital for weeks. 

Yet he still wished that they could forgive him. 

He didn’t want his family against him. Already his mum was gone, the only person that, for the most part, understood his love for the artistic world. Only she knew how the notes of the piano saturated his world with calm and colour, and how his paintings were composed as songs and how the very essence of nature and the world seemed to speak to him, whisper its secrets in his ear so that only he could translate them to sound or image. 

But she was gone.

And now no one understood.

-+-+-+-

Scott watched his next youngest brother leave the room. God, his gut churned with worry and fear. They had to make sure this time that he didn’t lock himself away. Scott had already set alarms on his phone for every hour, but he was sure his own worry would chew on him until he checked on his little brother. It was certainly going to keep him awake tonight. 

Grandma sighed before rising to her feet and moving to her own room. She grabbed her overnight bag from where Scott had managed to drag it in and took it with her, obviously intending to unpack. Scott also stood, and after checking the youngest two were definitely distracted by their blocks. He went back outside and noticed that Dad was still sitting in the car, hands white knuckled on the steering wheel. The ladder on the side of the house had also been pulled down, meaning he would have to go up later and check on John. For now, he was content to leave the middle child to himself. 

Scott moved over to the car and opened the front passenger door, slipping into the seat before his father could protest. “Virgil’s snappy,” he started and Jeff sighed.

“I figured he would be. You know how he gets after not having an outlet for a while. We’ve been stuck in that hospital for weeks. Just let him rest for a bit.”

“And how are you holding up?”

The older man let out a sad chuckle and turned his own sapphire eyes onto his son. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“Maybe. But I asked you first, so you gotta answer.”

“I’m fine Scotty. I just hate seeing him like that. He still looks so thin, and we need to make sure he doesn’t fall to anorexia or anything like that. We have to be vigilant with his diet. But he shouldn’t have had to go through any of that in the first place. He’s only a kid.”

“Yeah, but we’re all only kids. And we need our dad, because our mum is gone,” Scott breathed out. His eyes flickered down to his hands that were rubbing together nervously. “We need you here with us, Dad. And I don’t mean only physically. I mean  _ here  _ here. Helping Grandma and helping all of us.”

Scott looked up into his father’s eyes, his own tears mirroring his father’s. Jeff leaned forward and dragged the teen into his arms, allowing his eldest son to let out all the anxiety and fear that had built within all of them since that fateful night when they found Virgil. “I promise, Scotty. I promise I’ll be here. I promise I’ll be the dad you all need,” he whispered into the hair beneath his nose. He took a deep breath in, allowing the smell of his eldest son to comfort him. He still had all his boys. It was close, but he hadn’t let Lucy down. He still had all of them.

And still, his own tears fell into his son’s hair. 

-+-+-+-

A knock on the door woke Virgil from his sleep. He looked up in time to see a bright orange head peek through. “Virgil?” the mild tempered boy asked, stepping into the darkened room. 

“Hey John. Whatcha need?” Virgil whispered, sitting up properly to see his brother. He reached over and took a few gulps of water, knowing that if Grandma or Scott found out he hadn’t drank much he would be dead meat. Scott lay sound asleep across the room from him, obviously exhausted after his conversation with Dad.

“Vir-Virgil…” the young boy sobbed, stumbling over to the dark haired brother. 

Virgil struggled to stay sitting up when John ran into his arms, but he quickly started to try and calm the younger boy, petting his hair and cooing in his hair. “It’s okay, you’re alright, it was just a bad dream.”

“Pl-pl-please don’t leave t-too,” John whimpered into Virgil’s shoulder.

It shocked Virgil to say the least. “I thought you all were angry with me?” he asked quietly, not wanting the confirmation but confused by the boy’s words.

“N-no!” he whisper yelled. Scott stirred in his sleep and Virgil made a shushing motion. “N-no one’s a-angry-y-y. We didn’t want y-you to f-f-fall asle-ee-ep to-o.”

And hearing that from his least social brother was probably the best thing in that moment for Virgil, because he finally realised. 

His family weren’t angry. They didn’t resent him.

They had been worried. 

And they didn’t want to watch him die too. To watch him slip away just like their mum. 

He had been so wrong to think his family didn’t care, or only cared in a negative way. Sor wrong.

“Virgil, you-you know you can be sad t-too? About-about Mum?” John asked. “I-I didn’t see you cry, and-and I thought you might think that-that you have to b-be strong for us. But, y-you lost Mum too.”

And Virgil’s walls came crashing down.

He clutched the boy tighter to him and started sobbing in earnest, crying into John’s hair. The commotion must’ve woken Scott, because soon he was encasing the two brothers in his much bigger, longer arms. And before long, he too was crying with the other two. 

They heard footsteps making their way up the stairs not too much later, and soon everyone was piling into Virgil’s room. This house was notoriously creaky, and all the movement must’ve woken up the downstairs inhabitants.

“I’m sorry Virgil,” was whispered in his ear from someone’s sleep-rough voice. There were other murmurs of agreement, before a chorus of “Love you”s started. 

“It’s not your fault, Virge,” Scott whispered. “No one blames you for cracking under all this. We’re just sorry that we didn’t see you.”

Minutes passed before a quiet voice from a broken heart whispered back.

“I love you too.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok ok, I am so so so sorry that this has taken so long. I lost my mojo for a bit, then I forgot it existed, then I started a new project, then school, but here it is. Last chapter, over and done. I hope this wraps it up nicely and that it doesn't feel rushed or anything. This is a bit longer than the other chapters, so I hope I didn't waffle on or screw up any of my characterisations. Hope you enjoyed! :)


End file.
